


Desperate Times

by Dragoncurl



Series: Life of the Outsider [3]
Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-25 16:44:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20915297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragoncurl/pseuds/Dragoncurl
Summary: In which we see something that was only briefly mentioned in Chapters 15 and 16 of the first work of this series.A flashback to shortly after Emily's return to the Throne. Corvo connects the dots, and one of them is Daud.





	Desperate Times

"The Evil Witch was slain by the Hero with a knife to the heart. The Hero's Maiden was freed from the Witch's curse, and the village rejoiced at their return. The land flourished, no longer under the blight that was spread by the Witch's presence. The harvest that year was the most bountiful they'd ever had, and the Hero and his Maiden held an impressive banquet to the entire village during their long-awaited wedding. The end."

Corvo shuts the book and looks over at Emily, safe in her bed, tucked under the covers, the whole of Dunwall visible through the window. Except she's not asleep like usual. He can see the shine of her eyes open in the dim moonlight.

"What's wrong, Emily? Did you not like the story?"

The reflection in her eyes shifts just a little, but it's enough to tell him she's probably looking directly at him now instead of the book.

"Corvo, are witches real?"

"...Why do you ask?"

There's no response. Corvo reaches for the nightstand.

"Can I turn on the lamp?"

"Yeah."

He does. Emily squeezes her eyes against the sudden glow next to her bed, but adjusts quickly and sits up against the headboard. She's not looking at him now. Her hands are clasped together, fidgeting in a familiar way he knows all too well. He sets his own much broader hand over hers- the left one with the strap around it.

"Is there something you want to tell me?"

"Well..." She holds his hand between her own, almost toying with the edges of the strap. "Remember when I told you about those bad dreams I had after I found that carved piece of bone in the river? Back when we were at the Hound Pits?"

"I do."

He also remembers his rage at the Outsider for toying with his daughter like that, showing himself in her dreams all because of a damned stray rune he didn't catch before Emily could. Corvo doesn't voice these thoughts, but they flutter through his mind all the same. He keeps his attention on Emily.

"Those... weren't the only bad dreams I had while we were there. I only told you about the ones with the boy with black eyes because Callista insisted I should. She sounded really afraid about it, so I told you to help her calm down. And they did stop when you took that piece of bone away so I guess she was right about it being bad. But there were other bad dreams and... they were always about a witch."

Corvo's stomach twists, but he keeps his face and voice steady. "Really? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want you to worry. I know you didn't want people to see, but I could tell you weren't sleeping well either. And the things those people kept asking you to do... I only know a little bit about it, but I know you didn't really like to be doing them. And... well, these bad dreams started before you even rescued me, so I was kind of getting used to them when you brought me to the Hound Pits? The first one happened when I was still in the Golden Cat and it was really scary, but by the time you came to rescue me they'd happened enough that I kind of knew what to expect."

Emily's still idly toying with the strap around his hand, not trying to remove it but like she knows about the Mark underneath anyway. He doesn't know if she does. He hasn't dared broach the subject and she hasn't asked about it directly.

"And what was that?"

"It was... I'd wake up in this weird place that was all blue, but not like the sky or the ocean, with pieces of land and things just floating around. And sometimes I'd see these... like paintings, but not? Like these rooms and places frozen in time, sometimes even with people but nothing would ever move in them. And sometimes there were also whales far away, I could hear them singing. "

Corvo nods, even as he feels ice spread through his veins. "That doesn't sound so bad."

"It wasn't at first. But while I wandered I'd start to hear this voice calling to me. I thought it was mother when I first heard it, it sounded so similar, but it was a different woman. I saw her, she had the same black hair as mother but she looked different, she was taller. I never saw her face, but I just knew she was a witch somehow. She was always chanting something, or reading something, I think it was like a poem maybe? I could never remember the words after I woke up, but I always knew they were meant for me. There was always a lot of trees and plants around her every time I saw her. While she chanted whatever it was, I'd feel these vines start to grow around me and the more the witch talked the more they grew and..."

Emily's holding Corvo's hand tight. Her little shoulders are drawn. He puts his free hand on her back, but doesn't interrupt.

"The vines were full of thorns, they kept wrapping higher around me and tighter and the thorns kept poking me and it hurt a lot. It didn't matter if I tried to struggle, I could never get out. It just made the vines even tighter, they'd wrap around my wrists and my legs and my chest and my neck and... I-I'd always wake up whenever they started trying to go into my mouth. And... sometimes, when I woke up after one of these dreams I couldn't move for a while. I felt like I was still tied up. I was so, so scared the first time it happened, but it faded after a while. That's how it always was. I didn't always wake up frozen, but when I did I found out I just had to wait for it to go away."

Corvo's rubbing Emily's back in hopes it will soothe her worries. She starts to relax.

"These dreams got more frequent after you rescued me, but they never really changed much so I always knew how to deal with them. They were always scary, but they were the same scary every time and you already had enough things to worry about."

He squeezes her shoulder. "Even so, you should've told me back then, Emily. You know you can tell me anything. I want you to be happy."

"I know. I'm sorry."

She scoots over and wraps her arms around him. He strokes her hair. "It's okay. When did these dreams stop?"

They part so Emily can sit back again. Her little brow furrows in thought.

"It was... while you were at that party with the Boyles. And the last dream that I had was different too, it was scary in a different way."

"How so?"

"It started the same, with the blue place and the rooms and things floating around and all, but the chanting was different. I still could never remember the words, but I  _ felt _ it was different. It got louder too, really loud. There were whales, but I couldn't hear them anymore. And the woman was facing me that time, but there was so much light behind her I still couldn't see her face. Everything just kept getting more and more intense, she kept moving closer while the vines held me, and the light got brighter and brighter, and the words got so loud it was like they were inside my head, and there was this wind all around us. It was really scary."

Emily's expression seems to shift a little.

"But then that chanting just stopped all of a sudden and she screamed and... burned? Like she was made of paper. Everything stopped, the wind, the vines let me go, everything started to fade. There was a man standing there but I could barely see him. I just remember his red coat, it was the last color to go away before I woke up."

She looks up at him. He can see his own thought reflected in her eyes.

"Didn't the man that killed mother wear a red coat?"

Corvo nods slowly. "He did."

"And you fought him, right? After Havelock poisoned you."

Corvo nods again. He never told her that he didn't kill Daud. He thinks she interprets it that way and he'd rather not have to correct her.

Emily looks down at her hands. Corvo's is between them again, despite the earlier hug. "Why was he in my dream? Did he kill the witch too?"

"I don't know." He pulls his hand free, so he can hold Emily by the shoulders and turn her to face him. "All I know is that you're not having these weird dreams anymore, right?"

She nods.

"That's all that matters to me. And the... blue place, have you dreamed about that again?"

"...I don't think so," Emily says after a moment.

"Good." He gives her a kiss on the forehead. "Then I think you can go to sleep safe and sound now. You've already stayed up more than you should, little miss."

Emily giggles when he pokes at her belly. "Alright."

She burrows under the sheets while he turns off the lamp, then tucks the covers around her and brushes the hair away from her face. "Good night, Emily."

"Good night, Corvo."

He stays there, petting her hair until she's asleep. Quieter than a whisper, he rises from the chair and sets the book on it, then puts both next to her desk and tiptoes out of the room. The door clicks shut.

Corvo rushes away with barely a nod to the guard outside her room. His office isn't far, thankfully, his position as Lord Protector wouldn't have him more than two rooms away from his charge at all times, but his boots still feel infuriatingly slow in the time it takes for him to shut himself alone with his documents.

Emily's recollection of her dreams has shaken him more than he'd care to admit. She was in the Void, there's no doubt about it, but who was the woman? A witch? He pushes off the wall and paces to the rows of file cabinets along the wall. He yanks drawers open and searches frantically for a few reports that only now puts together as possibly being connected. He spreads them out across his desk.

Rothwild Slaughterhouse, destroyed through internal sabotage, its owner found strapped to an electric chair in the rubble. Barrister Timsh, arrested on plague accusations that were later found to be forged, but not soon enough to prevent his suicide in Coldridge. Lizzy Stride, inexplicably broken out of the same prison some time later. A sudden resolution to an ongoing conflict between the Dead Eels and the Hatters in Drapers Ward, by way of toxic gas released in the Hatter's main base through as-of-yet undetermined means. Evidence of supernatural activity discovered in the derelict Brigmore Manor.

Delilah.

The name jumps out at him. There was a woman who was once Sokolov's pupil. There was a ship in Rothwild's records. There was an old lover of Timsh mentioned in letters found at his estate. There were statues, shattered beyond recognition, found at said estate  _ and _ at the half-destroyed manor, both of the same material. There were paintings of Delilah's make in both locations. And Lizzy's escape was marked by a very recent supernatural event as well, one inextricably linked with strange magic linked to plant growth.

It can't be a coincidence. Corvo never met Delilah personally back in the day. He was still early in his affair with Jessamine, still too enamored with her and preoccupied with hiding it, and he'd never much liked Sokolov himself, but he remembers the old doctor raving about the woman's technique, her bold use of color and wild brushstrokes.

And Daud. The Knife of Dunwall appearing in his daughter's dreams. The one person he'd hoped to never even have to think about again.

Corvo glares at the man's file, at the picture on his wanted poster. His mouth twists into a scowl. With a huff he gathers all the papers and shoves them into a drawer of his desk. He stalks away, to a chest in the corner of the room. He digs books and other things rarely used out of it, until he can pull a box out of the very bottom of the trunk.

Inside are memories given form. A mask like a ghastly skull of metal and wire. A blade folded into its own hilt. A crossbow and two bundles of ammo, one with the sickly green of chemicals stored in the shaft of the bolt and barbed needle points.

Another thing Corvo had hoped to leave in the past, but he can't afford to let the common folk recognize him. He dons the mask. He pockets the folded blade. He straps the crossbow to his hip and stores the sleep darts in his coat.

Corvo locks the door to his office, turns off the light, goes to the window, and Blinks into the night air.

~~~~~~~~

Daud has a whole mess of papers across his desk that he's looking at without really seeing.

He told himself to go to bed a while ago, and yet here he is, idling away the hours with no real reason behind it. There are contracts, informants' reports, drafts of plans, yet he's blind to them all. He reaches over and pulls a map out from under the papers instead. His eyes go north, to Tyvia and the furthest large city of Wei-Ghon. His half-formed idea to leave Dunwall swims to the forefront of his mind again.

Name Thomas the new leader. Ask Lizzy to smuggle him out of the border, to a port that isn't quite so heavily watched. Either talk or bribe his way onto a ship bound for the furthest point north he can find. Lay low, stay out of trouble, keep his blade clean until he's far away from prying eyes. Find someplace quiet and secluded. Live his life somehow. Doing something.

Daud doesn't know what, he hasn't thought too hard about the end of the plan. How does an old assassin spend his twilight years? It's not an answer he has at the moment. He just knows he doesn't want to stay in Dunwall. Jessamine's ghost haunts the streets and his nightmares. Maybe distance will be what ends them. The black-eyed bastard hasn't shown himself again, at least, not since the whole business with Delilah was done and over with.

The assassin sighs and rubs a hand over his face. He sets the map aside. He needs to shave, his stubble's getting annoying again. The chair scrapes against the floor when he stands. He walks around the desk and bookshelves, up to what little privacy his bed offers. He unbuckles the crossbow from his wrist and sets both it and his blade on the bedside table. He sheds his gloves and pouches, his red coat, the reinforced vest undern-

The sound of the window guard collapsing reaches Daud's ears.

His hands go from his belt to his sword. He spins around just in time to see the quiet flash of magic that precedes the body that is suddenly perched on the guard rail, sword at the ready, the mask that plagues his nightmares grinning at him in the low light. Yet, in the same moment that stretches out while his adrenaline spikes, he also sees that the blade is clean.

The moment passes.

The figure doesn't move.

It's Daud who lets out a tired sigh. "Bodyguard," he greets with a nod. He lets his frame relax, though the sword stays in his fist. "Have you come to finish the job? Regret catch up to you?"

Again, no verbal response. The figure simply clamber off the rail and onto the floor to stand up straight. Their own blade is lowered, but not sheathed.

After the initial adrenaline rush, Daud finds himself strangely calm. This could be his doom, come to snatch him away in the dead of night. But he can still hear the breathing of the guard below, asleep and not dead. Corvo's blade is clean, as it was the last time they met in this very same room. He could very well be staring at the instrument of his demise, but he rather doubts it, so much that he turns away and sets his own weapon back on the bedside table.

"No, you're not like that, are you?" he muses as he lets himself fall sitting on his bed to face the figure again. "If you were going to kill me you'd have done it already. So, what brings you here at this hour, Bodyguard?"

Again there's no verbal answer. Not right away.

Even with the mask Daud can see their gaze going between him and his discarded weapon, until eventually the figure twirls their wrist and folds up their own blade. They reach up to finally reveal, as suspected, the face of the Lord Protector from behind the metallic skull, slightly flushed, sweat-damp hair clinging to the forehead which he brushes aside.

Corvo clips both mask and blade to his belt.

"Delilah."

Daud doesn't bother keeping his features neutral; his life already belongs to Corvo, he sees no point in keeping the façade. In contrast, the Protector's expression is unreadable, even more so in the low light.

"How do you know that name?" Daud asks.

"What do  _ you _ know?" Corvo throws back.

Daud chuckles quietly. "How much time are you willing to spend listening to an assassin?"

Corvo doesn't respond. After a while Daud rolls his eyes and looks around. Rather than speaking, he goes to his personal shelf and thumbs through his journals. He finds the one that contains the bulk of his troubles with Delilah, pulls it out, flips to the page where he details the Outsider's visit, and offers the book to Corvo.

"Here. Easier than me trying to explain it all."

Corvo eyes the book suspiciously before accepting it. Daud doesn't linger, he Blinks down to his office area instead and grabs the single chair, which he sets down next to Corvo after Blinking back up to the balcony. The Protector follows his every movement and only sits when Daud has settled on the edge of his mattress again.

Corvo reads, not without the occasional wary glance toward Daud. Daud has little to pass the time with, but he makes do. He takes an elixir from his trunk of supplies and sips it a few times. He finishes removing all the pouches of ammo and other things from his belt, which was what he was about to do when he was interrupted earlier. He sits back against the wall and tries not to fall asleep. Tiredness itches at the corners of his eyes, but as much as he may have some amount of tenuous trust in the Lord Protector, he's not stupid enough to literally fall asleep with the man at his bedside.

After what feels like entirely too long, Corvo lifts his head again. He says nothing, but his gaze is incredulous at best and accusatory at worst.

Daud offers him an amused smirk. "Wondering why I saved your girl after killing her mother?"

Corvo just nods. If he realizes the implication of his probable fatherhood, he doesn't show it.

"I can't abide a mystery."

The black-eyed bastard's words echo on his tongue like bitter acid. Daud rises again and takes the journal from Corvo's hands who, to his credit, doesn't seem to tense quite as much as he could've.

"And I suppose it was some misguided attempt to atone for my sins," Daud continues with his back turned while he finds the right place in the shelves. "Believe me or not, Bodyguard, but Jessamine's murder filled me with a regret I can't shake."

When he stands and turns, Corvo's eyes are definitely accusatory. The hate in them is palpable. Daud simply goes back to his seat at the edge of the mattress.

"I don't expect your forgiveness, Bodyguard. Far from it. I already owe you my life. I figure honesty is the least you deserve."

Corvo stares at him silently. Then he looks away, down and to the side. His hand goes to his belt and the Mask tied to it. He looks at his other palm- the one wrapped under a strap that Daud realizes is covering Corvo's Mark. Corvo examines his fingers and the back of his hand for quite a while, until he suddenly looks at Daud again and jumps to his feet.

"If you really regret it so much, then help me." Corvo's hand comes forward with the Mask. "Wear it. Root out every last bit of corruption and disloyalty from the ranks of the Royal Guard."

Daud takes the Mask slowly. He runs a thumb over it, across the imperfect welds and the trio of lenses on the left eye. It seems so incongruous with the grinning skull that would come for him in his nightmares.

"I'll have to investigate whatever you do and execute you if you're found, so don't be," Corvo goes on in an authoritative tone, the kind only years in a position of power can cultivate. "Don't contact me in any way. There can be no possibility of my involvement being discovered."

Daud looks back up at him, but his face is in shadow. "I want safe passage out of Dunwall in return. After I'm done, I want to be gone without anyone hearing a whisper about it. To the north, as far as you can take me."

"So you can keep on murdering the nobility of Tyvia as well?"

"No. I just want to be gone." He sets the Mask aside. "Am I allowed to kill?"

There's a long silence.

"Yes," Corvo says. "As a last resort," he adds.

Daud nods and gets to his feet. They're standing very close, well within arm's reach. He holds out a hand. "Do I have your word on a quiet way out?"

Another long silence, but Corvo's hand comes to shake his. "Yes."

"Then we have an agreement."

They let go and Corvo turns, but Daud grabs him by the shoulder. "If you need information sent to me, leave it in the third condemned building on Horse Ridge Row, left side when facing the Wrenhaven. Second floor, behind the bathroom mirror. It's a regular dead drop for us."

Corvo merely looks over his shoulder, barely even turning his head, but he nods. Then he pulls away and Blinks.

Daud's arm drops to his side. He looks at the Mask lying on his bed for a moment. He grabs it and stuffs it as deep as he can into his trunk, then finally sheds the rest of his work clothes and climbs under the covers.

He'll think about the mess he just got himself into tomorrow.

~~~~~~~~

"Sir, he's here."

Daud raises his head to find Corvo, unmasked and looking distinctly distrustful, walking in through the glass doors. The Whalers on either side of him are equally tense, despite all the warnings against violence. Thomas, clad in his new red attire, is only a few steps ahead of the Lord Protector.

"Thank you, Thomas." Daud rises from his desk. "Dismissed, all of you. Leave us alone."

A few quiet thwips later and the Whalers are gone, only the dim light of a waning moon to separate them.

"I know you told me not to contact you, Bodyguard, but I think you'll understand soon." He goes to the window. "Come. Follow me."

Corvo hesitates, but follows. He's led through the Flooded District, along a path that Daud thinks might be familiar because it takes them to the cells the Whalers use for the occasional captured victim. The very same cells Corvo himself once occupied, months and months ago. If the sight bother him, the Protector doesn't let it show.

They make their way into the building and up to where the cell pits are. Wordlessly, Daud grabs one of the steel trapdoors to one of the pits and lifts it. A man lies at the bottom, curled on his side, thin with starvation, bruised and battered. He's breathing, but unresponsive.

A look of recognition flashes across Corvo's face after a few moments. "General Finnigan."

Daud nods, one arm draped over the steel lid to keep it propped open. "One of the first I grabbed. We got a lot of information out of him. Turns out he was the highest ranking officer working with Burrows back then, fully committed to seeing that wretch on the throne. If it's any consolation he never believed the rumors about you being Emily's father, but he was the one coordinating the guard posts on the day we pulled of four scheme. He's the one who made sure the guards would be far away when it all went down, and that only those either paid of predisposed to believe Burrows' lie were the first to respond to the alarm."

Corvo's face is hard to read, but not blank. "Why are you showing me this?"

"He's run out his usefulness. Nothing else to squeeze out of his bloated head, and I can finish the rest of the targets I've found without him. I'll be done cleaning in about a month's time, at the latest. Your Guard will be completely yours." Daud looks down at the sunken cell. "I figured you might want to take the fate of at least one of them into your own hands."

Corvo stares at the broken man for a long time. He looks around and sees the nearby table with a clean, sharpened Whaler blade seemingly waiting for him. He glances down again.

"He's sedated?"

Daud nods.

Corvo walks to the table and takes the blade. His steps are steady and firm when he drops quietly into the pit cell. He grabs the man by the hair and angles the head forward, then drives the blade into the nape, under the skull and up into the brain. Corvo angles the blade to one side and the other before pulling it back out with the same swift motion. He waits a while, to make sure the man's breathing has stopped, the heartbeat has stilled, then simply drops the bloodstained knife next to the body and climbs out. His eyes are grim.

Daud just lowers the lid back down.

"You said a month?" Corvo asks, only turning his head to look at the assassin.

"Give or take a few days," Daud replies. "There's only a handful more left to go It all depends on when I find my opening to take out each one."

Corvo's barely moving. He's in the exact same spot, back to the cell with the newly-made corpse. "Then you will have your way out. There's a cargo ship that comes to port from Dabokva once a year, it'll be arriving in a few months. I'll leave the details in the dead drop. You will have until then to settle your affairs."

Daud is just gathering breath to speak when Corvo Blinks and is gone. He lets it out in a slightly annoyed sigh instead. He only spares the now corpse-filled cell one brief glance before Blinking away himself.

He'll get one of the novices to clean up the mess.


End file.
